


we could be golden

by tinymark (lumoon33)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet, Car Sex, Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Hopeful Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Summer Love, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoon33/pseuds/tinymark
Summary: Mark is barely an adult that is very bad at acting like a grown up. He can't avoid getting lovesick like a fool and count down the hours in all the kisses he's missing, in all the kisses he will miss in the future.(or: mark falls in love during the summer and now it's time to say goodbye)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 31
Kudos: 253





	we could be golden

**Author's Note:**

> this...... idk what this is. im on vacation and i dont have my laptop w me so i couldn't work on what's gonna be my next fic..... but ive got too many mahae thoughts and i couldn't Stay Still so i typed this thing out on my phone. im sorry if it sucks???? i even considered making a side acc to post this but listen who Cares. i guess it's feelings without plot
> 
> it isnt beta'd and it's barely edited bc im still on vacation!!! so im rlly sorry for the mistakes u can find
> 
> anyway i hope u enjoy this!!!

Mark remembers the first time he ever saw Donghyuck like a surreal painting.

It happened three years ago, during the first days of summer, when the sun shines bright and young as it starts its trip up to its highest point, and the grass still twinkles fresh under its light with the remnants of a damp spring.

But Donghyuck stood with wet hair and clothes that didn't match the weather, mud pooling on the knees of his pants and crawling up his shirt. He got droplets up to his cheeks, glistening over his tan skin under the hot sun.

He remembers a seventeen-year-old Donghyuck frowning up at him when Mark had asked him where he had crawled out from. To this day, Mark still doesn't have an answer, but Donghyuck's got the same body made of sunshine and eyes that carry a storm.

Today, Donghyuck blends into the golden sky almost seamlessly as Mark watches him approach through the rolled-down window of his car.

They are in the last days of summer now, when the sun is old and tired, and it washes everything in sandy colors. Even though it is still hot, a soft freeze seeps into your bones and forces you to grab a jacket on your way out, but that doesn't apply to Donghyuck. Nature's laws have never been strong enough to control him, anyway.

He walks towards Mark in a loose tank top that reveals more than what it covers, and shorts so short that disappear under the hem of his long shirt. His steps are laid-back, he drags his feet over the hot asphalt as if he has all the time in the world to reach Mark, as if this won't be over as soon as the night falls over them.

"Where to?" Mark asks when Donghyuck finally opens the passenger's door. He throws himself into the seat with a huff, closing the door after him with a loud slam. He doesn't reply right away, he's too busy tugging at the seat belt and frowning at himself when it doesn't stretch properly.

Donghyuck looks so young like this, with his lips pursed into a pout and a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, his soft cheeks puffed out. His skin is so tan, it seems to gleam with the bright light that comes through the open window. Mark's fingers itch with the desire to grab a paintbrush to dip it in soft brown colors and different shades of golden.

"Beach," Donghyuck says once he's settled. He props his feet up in the glove box and, by now, Mark knows better than to call him out.

He hasn't looked Mark's way yet, and that is the only evidence that today isn't just one more summer day. Mark refuses to acknowledge it out loud because that would only sharpen the sentiment of finality. He twists the key and starts the car, wishing he could find the courage to reach over the console and intertwine their fingers one last time, the way they have been doing almost every day in the past month.

Donghyuck has always liked songs that don't match the weather. By always, Mark means in the short time he's known him now. And in the short time he knew him back then, three years ago, when he met Donghyuck with a winter feeling even though spring still lingered in the air.

Now, Donghyuck fiddles with the radio and plays a ballad. It's loud, so loud that Mark is sure people walking down the street can hear it through the open windows of his car. So loud, that the sad melody swallows up Mark's sadness and, somehow, lights up the mood and sets it in a chord that actually matches summer.

Mark is laughing when he parks at the beach. Donghyuck's got his head thrown back, resting against the backrest of his seat, a soft smile painted on his face in gentle pinks.

Mark unfastens his seat belt and leans over the console, his earlier gloom gone out the window amidst the fast ride and the loud music. He fists one of the straps of Donghyuck's tank top and pulls him closer, close enough to attach his eager lips to the seam of Donghyuck's mouth and turn the soft pinks into cherry reds.

Donghyuck grunts a little against him, and panic starts to swirl in the bottom of Mark's stomach when two rough hands push him backward and away.

"Wait," Donghyuck whispers, fingers digging painfully into Mark's shoulder blades to keep him at arm's length.

He's frowning again, puffier than earlier. He lets go of Mark and flushes red on his cheeks and the tip of his ears when his seat belt doesn't come off because his fingers are shaking too much.

It has been almost three months since the first time Mark kissed him, with the futility of summer always hanging heavy in the air, forcing him to rush through his feelings in case he would never get another chance. And he's still left wide-eyed and speechless at the effect he has on Donghyuck: hot cheeks, sweaty palms, shaking limbs, and smiles so small they aren't meant for anyone else to see.

He chuckles a little, and Donghyuck throws him a threatening look that has little to no power with the way his cheeks go from red to magenta.

Mark wants to paint him so bad, wants to go out of his way to buy a new palette of watercolors, so he can give him the soft edge Donghyuck's always got around his eyes when he looks at Mark.

He ends up unfastening Donghyuck's seat belt for him, his steady fingers curling around Donghyuck's shaky, sweaty hands to pop it open. And, then, he's the one huffing, short of breath when Donghyuck pushes him hard against the back of his seat to climb on top of him.

They haven't even set foot on the beach, and yet, Donghyuck already tastes like salty water. His skin is sunshine warm on the tip of Mark's fingers when he slips his hands through the holes of Donghyuck's tank top. Donghyuck's own palms feel like rough sand, scratching at every bit of Mark's pale skin he can find, turning the white of it into tender red that will stay with him for the entire day. Mark wishes it could stay with him a little bit longer.

This is not what he had in mind when he parked the car. Mark wanted to step into the sand, walk along the shore while their knuckles brushing together, bask in the warmth of the sun over his skin, and relish in the fact that Donghyuck walking beside him felt even warmer.

But he can't stop now, not when Donghyuck is kissing him like this, as deeply as he can manage, with his tongue mapping the inside of Mark's mouth as if he's trying to commit every single corner to memory.

Mark's right hand finds its way up Donghyuck's thigh easily, more than used to sneaking under clothes in uncomfortable positions in this exact same car. He slides his fingers up and into the leg of Donghyuck's shorts, palming between his legs until he's got Donghyuck pushing his hips up at the touch, whining high pitched and breathless in the heat of Mark's mouth.

The touch is dry and rough, Mark's movements are way too desperate and impatient. He tries to bring Donghyuck over the edge as if he's in a race against the clock: the faster, the better. And, in a way, he is. Donghyuck has always liked it like this, though; dirty and messy, in small places that force them close together.

He doesn't stop until Donghyuck slumps against him, his sweaty forehead pressed to the side of Mark's neck as he runs his other hand up and down Donghyuck's damp back, his tank top rolled up to his armpits.

It smells like sex and sweat in the car, the leather of the seat feels sandpaper rough against Mark's thighs, his own sweatpants rolled up to his butt. Donghyuck is heavy and too hot on top of him, sticky skin and dirty clothes rubbing against every bit of Mark's body. But he doesn't complain, he loves the uncomfortable weight of it all, even if he doesn't understand it enough to say it out loud.

Mark stretches his arm out to pop open the glove box and get some tissues out. Donghyuck slides down his thighs and snickers against Mark's throat, his breath ticklish againt the sensitive skin.

"God," he mumbles when Mark pushes him away, Donghyuck's shirt fisted in his other hand to try to clean up the mess in his belly. "This is so gross. 'M gonna miss it."

Mark smiles up at him as he slides the tissues over Donghyuck's warm skin. The words settle heavily under his ribs, spreading a bitter feeling he knows will stay with him as long as Donghyuck's memory lingers.

And Mark wants to carve him into his brain like this. He wants sculpt this imagine in his mind, the way Donghyuck's skin looks even darker when he's sitting like this, backlit by the sun that comes in through the front window, its reflection on the water giving him this dreamy halo as if he's been lit up from the inside. That's how Mark feels when he looks at him, lit up from the inside, burning up in every way possible.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Donghyuck says, tilting his head to the side.

The light catches on Donghyuck's cheek, then. His eyes smirk down at Mark with a teasing glint, sun trapped between his eyelashes. And Mark, he is awestruck, already considering fishing his phone from the back seat to take a snapshot of the image despite the teasing squint of Donghyuck's eyes.

"Hurry up," Donghyuck commands, shaking his head when Mark doesn't reply.

He grabs the tissues from Mark's hands and throws them to the floor of the car. And Mark hates that he isn't even able to get mad at him, he can only pout at Donghyuck as he gets the door open to crawl out of Mark's lap and onto the asphalt, his chirpy laughter already blending in with the sound of the crashing waves.

Mark comes out after him, but he takes a second to grab his phone from the back seat, hands itching to snap a few pictures at the sight of Donghyuck running into the sand and towards the water, his hair getting all tousled up by the breeze.

When they reach the shore, the sun is already low in the sky, almost grazing the ocean, its light shining bright golden, reflected in the surface of the water.

Donghyuck keeps walking until the sea covers most of his legs, the hem of his oversized tank top getting wetter with each wave that comes for him. He doesn't force Mark to get in the water with him the way he would do in a normal summer day, so they can kiss under the sun and underwater, tasting of salt and of summer and of every single bright thing that reminds Mark so clearly of Donghyuck, he doesn't think he will ever be able to step into a beach without thinking of soft cheeks and heart-shaped lips.

Instead, Mark stays back, taking bad pictures where you can barely make out Donghyuck's body against the sun, fingertips grazing the water as he pushes his head back to bask in the warm light.

If Mark was an artist, he would paint the image in front of him in ocher and ultramarine strokes of gouache and call it _the passing of time_. Everything that surrounds him feels like a clock ticking by: the tide retreating mercilessly, water running away from him, taking every single print of his steps with it as a robbery, leaving only a seamless canvas of wet sand behind; the foam of the waves has a lifespan of a few seconds, tiny bubbles bursting into nothing before Mark can grasp enough time to count them; water stealing soft sand from underneath his feet and never giving it back, making him lose his balance at the sudden emptiness under his naked soles, at the sudden void in his belly.

But Mark is not an artist, he only likes to play pretend. Mark is barely an adult that is very bad at acting like a grown up. He can't avoid getting lovesick like a fool and count down the hours in all the kisses he's missing, in all the kisses he will miss in the future.

That's what today feels like: missing in advance, missing before losing. And he wants the ocean to wash away these feelings the same way it washes away his footprints. So Mark throws his phone towards the dry sand and walks into the sea until the waves sneak their way up to his sweatpants.

He has always hated the feeling of wet clothes hanging off his skin. He can't stand the rash on his legs when he sits down on the leather seats of his car, rough salty water reddening up the tender flesh between his thighs. But that's the last thing on his mind when he finally reaches Donghyuck.

His lips travel up the line of Donghyuck's neck, he presses a kiss for every heartbeat that pounds under his mouth and counts them like seconds. He tries to build up a new timing system just for the two of them, as Donghyuck throws his head back on Mark's shoulder to give him more access to his salty skin, like an empty sheet of toned paper ready to be splashed with reds and purples.

So that's what Mark does. Under the orange light of a fading sun, he threads seconds between his fingers and sinks his teeth into Donghyuck's throat. He scratches at the smooth skin and then kisses over his marks, just to turn them a little redder, a little more permanent. He wants to give Donghyuck something to remember him by in his trip back home, something harsh and evident, but that will be gone almost as fast as it blooms. He pulls back to look at the bruise, traces its shape with his nose, and wishes feelings could fade away as easily as they come.

He tries to shake himself out of this lazy stupor when Donghyuck turns around to look at him, but he isn't fast enough.

"Do you regret it?" Donghyuck asks, voice so tiny that it almost gets stolen away by the crashing waves, just like their time.

Mark shakes his head no. Because they have always been in for the fun, from the start. And he has spent the best summer of his life. Tripping over his feet and turning this into something deeper than it was meant to be, that's on him, only.

Donghyuck tilts his head to the side, stares at Mark with sunlight in his eyelashes and looks at him as if he's crystal clear, like the ocean. Mark doesn't know what Donghyuck sees when he looks right through him like this, but a small smile blooms on his face, something private like a secret. It's something quiet that doesn't match the usual thunderstorm that comes with someone like Donghyuck, so full of life that he turns everything around him inside out. Mark guesses he never had a choice, after all.

He closes his eyes when Donghyuck starts to lean in, but the kiss never lands on Mark's mouth. There are gentle lips over his left eyelid, a touch so tender it is barely there. Donghyuck's breath fans over his face, as warm as the weather as he travels over his face, to his cheek, brushing down his neck like a caress.

They have never been like this, they have never been soft. Mark feels like a fish out of the water, curling his wet fingers on the ends of Donghyuck's shirt just so he doesn't lose his balance under the weight of a new thing. It has always been fast and loud and fun, running down the streets and laughing in libraries and kissing in cars, gasoline and sweat and dirty jokes, hard kisses and dry handjobs and red knees in small bathroom stalls.

It feels way too late to slow down, now. Mark isn't ready to learn a new emotion when it's going to be ripped away from his fingers in a few minutes. His skin is already getting used to the slow slide of Donghyuck's lips, to the careful curl of his fingers around his jaw, brushing so gently that it almost tickles. He's already growing goosebumps and whining like he's addicted when Donghyuck takes the touch away from him.

He opens his eyes, squints at Donghyuck through his eyelashes, trying to make out his expression against the harsh light of the sun, already setting behind him.

But he doesn't have the time to read between the seam of Donghyuck's mouth or along the wrinkles on his forehead, because Donghyuck is diving in again as quickly as he pulled away. But it's rude, this time.

He kisses down Mark's neck with sharp teeth, pressing his tongue flat against his pulse point, wet and dirty. He sucks at Mark's skin with familiar desperation, trying to bruise him up in a way that will defy time. And Mark can only slide his cold fingers up Donghyuck's burning back and press closer. He can only whine and wish he could paint the sun still in the orange sky, so today could turn endless.

But Mark is no artist, he owns no paintbrushes and the sky is no canvas. So, eventually, Donghyuck pulls away with a last kiss under his jaw, tongue tracing over teeth marks as if he's trying to memorize them.

Even though the sky is already turning dark blue, the car is hot when they climb back in. Their feet drip sand and water all over the floor, their wet clothes make ugly noises as they drag against the leather seats. But Mark doesn't have room in him to regret anything. His fingers thread between Donghyuck's in the darkness, and he rests their jointed hands over the console as he starts the car, a loud upbeat song breaking through their comfortable silence when Donghyuck turns up the radio.

Donghyuck sings all the way back to his house, screaming out the open window and into the almost empty streets. Mark looks over at him in every red light, and Donghyuck never looks back.

When he parks, Mark is reminded once again of the finality of it all. The house Donghyuck's parents rented for the summer looks the exact same way it has looked throughout the past three months, cozy and familiar and permanent. But there's a van parked next to Donghyuck's mother's car, filled to the roof rack with luggage.

Donghyuck takes his hand out of Mark's grip and stares out the window with his thumb between his teeth, biting into his nail. It's a dangerous habit that is ruining his fingers, nails chipped in a way that makes Mark tremble every time Donghyuck runs them down his thighs.

The radio stopped singing the second Mark turned off the car. Everything stays deadly quiet for a few moments, Mark looking at Donghyuck's side profile and Donghyuck staring at a house he doubts will ever be his house again. Mark desperately wishes time had breaks he could smash, wishes he could backtrack and trap this summer into the beach forever.

Donghyuck sighs, his shoulders falling visibly as he turns to look at Mark in the eye.

There are a million things they could say, but that would turn everything they are losing too real. They shouldn't have anything to lose in the first place.

So, when Donghyuck smirks at him and says, "wanna suck you off," Mark nods his head eagerly, scooting his seat back so he can spread his legs open to make room for him. Because he's a desperate lovesick fool that will accept anything he can get.

Donghyuck takes his time with it in a way he's never done before, like the soft kisses back at the beach. He kneels between Mark's legs, gets his sweatpants and underwear down to his ankles, and he runs his hands all over Mark's skin.

His hands are still cold from the ocean, and Mark's thighs are damp and sensitive where his wet pants were hugging his legs. The feeling makes Mark shiver, his knees shaking even before Donghyuck touches him where he needs him most. Nails sink into his flesh and leave red tracks and half-moons over pale skin, coaxing long moans out of Mark's throat.

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this, staring at Mark with bright eyes as if he's the only thing he ever wants to look at.

They should be in a rush, the digital clock on the car like a sentence for Donghyuck, a reminder of the little sleep he will get if he doesn't get in bed right now. But they drag it out as if they don't have a countdown.

They take it easy, until Mark's hips are a quivering mess, pushing into the warmth of Donghyuck's mouth as if he can't help himself, thighs shaking with pleasure. They take it slow, until Donghyuck's cheeks get crimson red, a mix of spit and cum sliding down his chin as he moans hotly around Mark, sucking as if he can't get enough.

Once it's over, once Mark is blissed out, fully satisfied and with his eyes glossed over, Donghyuck still looks beautiful. He stays kneeling between Mark's legs, whimpering with his eyes half-lidded as he sneaks a hand into his shorts, getting off at the sight of a fucked out Mark.

Mark keeps staring at him. He brings a lazy hand to one of Donghyuck's burning cheeks, his knuckles grazing the blush there before his thumb catches in the seam of his mouth. There's cum there, and Mark sweeps it with the pad of his finger and smears it over Donghyuck's heart-shaped lips. He watches wide-eyed as Donghyuck chases the taste with his tongue, moaning around Mark's finger once he traps it into his mouth.

Donghyuck comes in his shorts for the second time today, his teeth sinking into the flesh of Mark's thumb as he shudders through it. And Mark pulls him up and into his lap without a second thought, ignoring the mess and that he's still butt naked. Donghyuck goes so easily with it, climbing onto Mark's thighs and settling there as if it's where he belongs.

They kiss one last time, slow in a way that isn't them, but that tastes like them. Mark can taste himself and the salt of the ocean and that electric flavor that is inherently Donghyuck's. He knows he'll never be able to think about summer without being transported back to this moment where he's about to lose everything. And, somehow, he loves the thought.

“Will you write?” He asks against Donghyuck's lips, refusing to pull away just yet.

“Like, actual letters?” Donghyuck giggles into his mouth. Mark feels his laughter bouncing in his ribs and he thinks he might burst with it. “You know, mobile phones exist.”

Mark knows, but he remembers a moment just like this one, but entirely different. He remembers standing in front of a seventeen-year-old Donghyuck three years ago, in the porch of this same house, under the hot sun. He remembers when Donghyuck promised he'd text, and he remembers how it felt when he never did. Mark remembers when he had just turned eighteen, when he was naive and thought a few kisses in a few months meant love.

Now, Mark is twenty-one and not much has changed. He's still naive, and he knows a few kisses in a few months can definitely mean love. So he wants the prospect of something tangible. If Donghyuck ever writes, he wants something he can hold on to.

“Actual letters,” he whispers, like a confession in the private spot behind Donghyuck's ear.

“Okay, I'll write.”

Donghyuck pulls away. He pushes the door open, slides off Mark's lap and onto the asphalt.

He turns around one last time to press a kiss to Mark's mouth, his teeth sinking into his lower to pull at it, just to drag it out.

He whispers, “I promise,” against Mark's cheek. He sounds like a lie, exactly like he did three years ago. Still, Mark lets him go.

And, if he was an artist, Mark would paint the image in front of him with crayons, like a little kid, and he would call it _hope_. He stares at Donghyuck as he climbs up the stairs of the house that will stop being his house in a few hours, and waits, and hopes. And Donghyuck never looks back.

But, a week and a half later, Mark gets the first letter, written in red ink over a gold-toned paper that looks like beach sand.

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmm im sorry??? idk man i hope it doesn't suck djhdhd you would make me very happy if u dropped kudos or a comment. thank you for reading!!!
> 
> come chat if u want!!  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/tiniemarks) // [cc](https://curiouscat.me/tiniesung)


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